Lost Love
by C. Montgomery Burns
Summary: At her ex's wedding, Lois Lane bumps into someone who may have more in common with her than she thinks. [set in the DCAU]


The Watchtower had never looked quite so welcoming. Like with their yearly Christmas party, the entire area beneath the monitor womb had been cleared of all crime fighting equipment and replaced with the necessary decor. Legions of white-clothed tables circled the open area serving as a dance floor, with a small stage erected just behind it against the immense windows overlooking earth. The civilian staff had all been sent home. Mr. Terrific, clad in a tuxedo, sat in the monitor womb for the moment, keeping an eye on the state of the world affairs until his shift ended and he was allowed to rejoin the festivities.

Despite the Watchtower having most of its usual inhabitants, not a single one was in costume. Earth's mightiest heroes had traded in their spandex and armor for chic tuxedos and elegant dresses for the evening. The well-dressed heroes were spread out all over the party space. Many were occupying the dance floor, some moving gracefully and others moving spastically to the music pulsing out through the speakers usually reserved for announcements. Others had drifted off to the side to take full advantage of the free food and alcohol waiting for them on the orderly refreshment tables. A few of the more tired heroes lounged comfortably at their tables, the excellent planning having placed them beside their friends for the occasion.

For anyone who had the privilege to attend the momentous occasion, they could not help but pick up on the overwhelming sense of joy permeating the entire space, like a tidal wave of euphoria inescapably drowning everyone it passed over. The dance music was complemented by an organic symphony of laughter, a million congratulations and well wishes and a multitude of other happy conversations that danced back and forth in the wide expanses of open air. Meta-humans, aliens and simple mortals all meshed together as one, united in their joy over the occasion.

Almost everyone, that is. One woman, dressed in a lovely purple gown that matched her violet eyes, slipped towards the back and out one of the automatic doors. The hallway she entered was empty, save for a few cheap utilitarian sofas that lined the wall across from the floor to ceiling windows. As the door closed behind her and took the sounds of the party with it, Lois Lane sighed, but it did nothing to alleviate the dull ache sitting in the middle of her chest. The hard-nosed journalist huffed and flopped down on the couch, a bit disappointed in how she was handling it all. When she'd accepted the invitation to come, she'd told herself that she'd handle it gracefully, that she'd keep her head held high and her poise completely intact. To be fair, she'd done well. She hadn't made a scene during the ceremony or the reception. She'd been gracious when she'd encountered the happy couple, smiling and offering them her best imitation of sincere congratulations. Still, even she couldn't ignore the shard of pain that had lodged itself in her chest when she heard about the wedding and had made its presence increasingly known as the fateful day drew closer.

Lois grumbled and pushed her dark bangs out of her face, glaring out at the twinkling stars. To make everything a bit more annoying, the journalist in her wouldn't stop raging about what a big story the whole occasion would be and how easy it would be to quietly cover it with everyone distracted by the joyful reception. True, she didn't have Jimmy Olsen with her, but it wouldn't be that hard to snap a photo or two with her phone. She was a decent photographer in her own right and it wasn't like there were any other journalists to compete with up on the elite space station. Still, somewhere deep down, where her hurt got tangled up with the affection that still lingered like the last guest at party that was long since over, she couldn't do it. She couldn't betray Clark's trust that way. She couldn't do it when he'd revealed that he was Superman all those years ago, leading to her sitting on one of the biggest stories of the modern era. How could she do it now?

Rather than delicately sip the glass of champagne she'd carried out with her, Lois tossed it all back in one gulp, feeling the fizzy liquid run down into her empty stomach. She hadn't had much of an appetite all day. As she sat, her fingers idly toying with the empty glass, she thought back and tried to figure out where it had all gone wrong. Clark and her were both busy people. It always felt like they were trying to steal a few moments of the others time. Whenever she was free, he had a planet to save. Whenever he was free, she had to cover a story on the other side of the world. Whenever the stars aligned and they were able to spend time together, it felt like there was some hesitancy that wouldn't leave Clark alone, preventing him from being completely in the moment. Lois wasn't sure exactly when they figured it out, but they eventually arrived at a mutual understanding that things were just too difficult at the moment. In spite of the complications, some part of her had hoped that they'd eventually figure out how to untangle whatever wires had gotten crossed. Turns out it hadn't been in the cards.

The sound of the automatic doors whooshing open brought a deeper scowl onto her face. The last thing she wanted at the moment was company, particularly with one of Clark's smiley friends. She turned to tell whoever had intruded on her solitude to beat it when she was surprised by the sight of one of the few people on the Watchtower that she actually recognized out of costume.

"Lois," Bruce Wayne said, usually stoic face betraying a tiny fragment of surprise at the sight of the journalist.

"Hey Bruce," Lois greeted dully, "Am I in your brooding space?"

The billionaire's lips pulled a bit of a frown at that. "No, I just needed to step out for a moment," he said, glancing out the large windows at the infinite expanse of outer space.

"To brood?" In spite of her low spirits, Lois couldn't resist the impulse to needle Bruce. It was just too easy.

"I needed to think." Lois detected a little bit of anger in the billionaire's clipped response.

"That's a euphemism for brood."

The journalist watched as the billionaire took a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising beneath the smooth black fabric of a tuxedo that was probably worth more than her yearly salary. He turned to her, his bright blue eyes still smoldering with the anger he'd pushed down. "Well, what are you doing out here? Just staring off into space?"

Lois glanced out the window before turning her piercing gaze back on the Gotham vigilante and arching an eyebrow. "Was that a joke?"

Bruce just shrugged and leaned against the wall beside the couch, smoothly crossing his feet at the ankles. Like Lois, one of his hands sported an expensive glass that had long since been emptied of its alcoholic contents. His other hand slipped into his pocket as he stared silently ahead. Lois could almost hear his jaw clenching.

"You must not be feeling alright if you're making puns," Lois observed, scrutinizing the surly billionaire, "What's wrong?"

Bruce made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. "Same as you, I suppose," he muttered, "Damn wedding."

"I don't think it's exactly like what I'm dealing with," said Lois, a bit annoyed that Bruce was comparing his antisocial behavior to her heartbreak. If he didn't want to deal with the wedding he shouldn't have agreed to have it on the Watchtower or be the best man.

"You sure about that?"

The words caused Lois' eyes to narrow. It wasn't just what he'd said, but the way he'd said it, his gruff baritone tinged with resignation and even a bit of...sadness? It wasn't an emotion she'd ever imagined the Dark Knight feeling, let alone expressing, even subtly. Bruce was never the most open person, but he'd seemed happy whenever she'd encountered him. He'd smiled gently during the ceremony, standing dutifully alongside Clark and the other groomsmen. He congratulated the couple and gave a short, but kind toast at the beginning of the reception, before the dancing and the booze stole everyone's attention. Now, he seemed entirely different, weary and frustrated and a bit sad, like he'd dropped his mask the second he stepped through those automatic doors.

It was then that it hit Lois. Trying to smile and look happy when you were anything but, when you were really feeling torn up. In that moment, looking at the billionaire felt like looking in the mirror to the shrewd journalist.

"You and Diana." It wasn't a question but a statement.

Bruce's scowl deepened, his posture tightening. "Sort of, although not exactly like you and Clark."

"Were you two together?" Lois asked. Clark had never talked much about his teammates' love lives, although she doubted the farm boy was any good at picking up on budding romance.

"No, but we could have been," Bruce said, his cerulean eyes taking on that far-away expression, "There was always some of that tension between us. We'd flirt quite a bit, always dancing around each other but never taking the next step."

"Why not?"

"Mostly me," Bruce said, a bit of self-loathing tainting the hard won knowledge, "Diana would've been up for it. She said so several times, but it always felt like there'd be something in the way. Not just because of what we do, but who we are. Let's face it: me and her are very different."

Lois knew what the billionaire was getting at. It wasn't exactly a feeling of inferiority. It was more a feeling of unease, knowing just how radically, unalterably different you were from the person you loved, who might as well have been a god in comparison. In Bruce's case, she supposed that was literally true.

"I understand," Lois said, leaning back until her shoulders hit the frigid metallic wall behind her, "That stuff was always simmering just beneath the surface with me and Clark. He always worried about losing control and accidentally hurting me some day. He never said it, but I know he also worried a lot about me dying, knowing we'd have decades together at the most while he'd have to face the centuries afterwards alone."

Bruce nodded in understanding. "It's easy to say you don't care about that stuff in the moment, when we're all still relatively young and healthy. But I never wanted to drag her down that way, force her to see me deteriorate and eventually die, leaving her to pick up all the pieces. Immortality sounds nice at first, but then you realize it guarantees that you'll eventually have to attend the funerals of everybody you ever cared about."

At Bruce's words, Lois felt the melancholy settling into the pit of her stomach. Dying wasn't exactly something she was excited for, but she felt a new measure of sympathy for the Amazonian princess. "Well, at least they'll get a long time together," she said, thinking about how happy the two meta-humans looked as they'd danced together, "Clark hasn't aged a day in all the years I've known him. Not even a laugh line."

"I don't really have to worry about those," Bruce deadpanned.

Lois' lips twitched into a smirk. "I don't doubt it."

Bruce glanced down at Lois, taking her in. She looked a lot better with that confident smirk on her face, a lot more like the Lois he knew. He thought back to the time he'd chased Joker to Metropolis and the brief romance he'd enjoyed with the journalist. There hadn't been much he didn't like about her, smart, independent, beautiful. He'd also always been a sucker for dark hair. But she'd chose Metropolis over Gotham and, even then, he'd had a distinct feeling that a certain Kryptonian had also factored into her decision.

"You want to get another drink?" Bruce offered, "I need one."

"I think we both do, Wayne," Lois said, rising to her feet and following the billionaire back out into the party.

The pair navigated the gigantic amorphous conglomeration of well-dressed superheroes as they made their way over the row of refreshment tables, elegantly covered with white cloth and each sporting a vase of bright dahlias.

"Here," Bruce said, offering the journalist a large glass of champagne while his other hand held one for himself.

"Thanks," Lois said, taking it and glancing around the dance floor. A slow song came on, one that she recognized. 'Time in a Bottle' by Jim Croce. The couples were all drawn out onto the dance floor by the siren call, gently swaying to the music as they embraced each other. She could spot Clark and Diana at the center of it, gazing at each other with what could only be described as adoration.

"To lost love," Bruce said, extending the rim of his glass for a glum toast. Lois clinked her glass against his before tossing the drink back, silently grateful for the odd feeling of solidarity Bruce was offering her.

Bruce glanced at her as she placed the empty glass back on the table. Lois was still as beautiful as when he'd first met her and she looked lovely in that dress. He thought back to what had stood in their way all those years ago. It was now out on the dance floor with an Amazon princess in his arms.

"Do you want to dance?" Bruce offered, feeling a bit bolder with the second drink in his system.

Lois looked at him cooly. "I'm not your rebound, Bruce."

"And I'm not yours," Bruce retorted, giving the easy smile he usually reserved for his appearances at charity functions, "I'm just done with sitting on the sidelines."

Lois examined the billionaire carefully. She had a distinct feeling there was more going on than that. Still, she had to admit that he looked good in his tuxedo, not to mention that pearly grin on his handsome face. "Alright," Lois conceded, taking the billionaire's hand and allowing him to lead her out onto the dance floor, "But no funny business, Wayne."

Bruce just smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

**A/N:** I've never been a huge fan of the Superman/Wonder Woman pairing, but it was interesting to imagine the impact it could have on other characters, particularly in the context of the DCAU.


End file.
